One of Them
by whathaveibecome
Summary: There was a differentness about his features that Mustang hadn't ever really noticed before. Of course he had noted the strange eye color when they had first met, but when Fullmetal was in something as mundane as military blues, other things seemed to pop out as well. Like the fact that his hair was a little too light and a little to brassy to be traditionally blond. Ishvalan AU.


I guess you could say it started with the sunblock.

The first time it happened Ed had just returned from an assignment to the west. It had apparently proved particularly taxing as when he came to give his report he'd been even more of a whirlwind than usual. It had begun with a few cases of missing equipment and evolved into a fight with a state alchemist who'd been getting rich off stolen military weapons, and was willing to do whatever it took to keep it that way, killing two other officers who had discovered him.

Mustang had known something was off in the western base for months and he wasn't surprised to learn of the other alchemist's treachery. After the officers had gone missing Hughes had been assigned to investigate and while he found evidence of corruption, it was subtle, not enough to bring up charges.

So Mustang sent in Ed, the kid was like a lightning rod, wherever he went he seemed to root out trouble. And he didn't _do_ subtle.

It worked out, the alchemist was awaiting execution for murder and the stolen goods had been mostly recovered. The kid however, was not content with a job well done. He had blown in to the office with a loud declaration that they better make it quick because he had better places to be. Better places, it had turned out, were seats on a train headed east to visit his automail mechanic, it had been a tight connection he didn't want to miss.

In his rush to leave he had forgotten his trunk on the floor of the office. Fuery was the one who noticed, after nearly falling on his face tripping over it.

"What's that doing there?" He asked aloud, the office was a busy place and it was unusual for something to be left out like that. He went to lift it out of the way and groaned, "What is in this thing?"

Havok had wandered over by this point and made to lift it.

"Damn, it's like it's full of rocks," he exclaimed barely managing to lift the thing on to the desk where he promptly flicked it open, hardly considering that it might have been someone's private property.

The trunk had been stuffed full of books and manuscripts, what looked like clockwork parts, an actual lead weight, and a rather iconic red jacket.

"Edward must have left it when he rushed out," Hawkeye said, "I'll call the train station to see if he's left yet."

"That little lunatic has actual weights in his luggage!" Havok gasped, laughing along with the others in the room.

What had caught Mustangs eye however was something far stranger for the Fullmetal alchemist to be carrying, it was an unmarked bottle but one that was familiar to him. He had seen one of his sisters use it often growing up, it was a lotion meant to bleach the skin and protect it from darkening in the sun, best stuff on the market by far she'd told him.

Fullmetal was arrogant, sure, but he wasn't vain, he didn't even shower regularly. There would be no time for him to care about something as trivial as his complexion. At the time Mustang had supposed Ed had picked up the lotion accidentally, buying a beauty product rather than normal sunscreen by mistake.

When Ed had come back to the office to pick up his stuff, more irritable than usual after missing his train, he was unhappy to see that his trunk had been opened. When Mustang had held out the bottle of lotion, casually teasing that his sisters were very fond of the stuff, he almost missed the way Ed's face had paled, drained of color much more efficiently than any cream could accomplish.

There were other moments.

He recalled once telling Ed, after some kind of confrontation, that he should try to keep a lower profile.

"You say that like it's so easy," Ed had grumbled.

"Maybe you could ditch the bright red coat," Mustang had drawled, only half interested in the conversation, it was silent and when he looked up Ed was staring at him like he had just grown a second head.

"Yeah, it's the coat that does it," he said sarcastically, he got up to leave, throwing one last bewildered expression over his shoulder before exiting the office. Mustang had thought that it was a strange reaction, but his mind was focused on other things and the thoughts were soon disregarded.

The boy now stood across the desk from him, glaring intently. Mustang leveled his look with a blank stare, waiting for the inevitable outburst.

"Why me?" he asked, then faltered, "and why you? Why both of us? Don't you have other stuff you need to be doing? Why would command send you to a town in the middle of nowhere, and why would a trip to the a town in the _middle_ of _nowhere_ require two of the best alchemists in the military?"

Mustang hesitated, he had been prepared for a denial on the basis of _I don't like you I don't want to go_ but the questions he had asked were valid, and they were questions Mustang wanted answers to himself. The ego boost at hearing Fullmetal call him one of the best alchemist's in the military was only slightly dampened by the fact that he included himself in there too, and why wouldn't he?

Speaking purely objectively, he and Fullmetal were the best of the combat-ready state alchemists. He was a living weapon of mass destruction and had proved himself very useful in combat. He had stopped doubting his own abilities years ago, when he had seen entire towns burn at his hand, when he had smelled the burning flesh of the Ishvalites in the air for miles, and Fullmetal, if it wasn't for the his youth and relative innocence, he didn't want to think about the destruction he could cause.

Speaking of destruction, the kid's automail hand had started digging into to arm of his chair, he didn't look angry anymore, he looked thoughtful, a bit disturbed perhaps but not angry.

"They didn't tell you did they?" He stated it like a fact, not a question, and Mustang found himself regretting he had ever stepped foot in Risembool.

"What _they_ told me doesn't concern you, what _I'm_ telling you does. That is to be packed for a two week journey and at the station by 7 tomorrow morning," and the anger was back, "the train to Payeid leaves at 8 and we will both be on it, along with a team of men handpicked by the Fuhrer." He paused then and made sure he had the boys full attention, "The Fuhrer himself might be there to send us off and I know I don't have to tell you how important it is to impress him with our efficiency and professionalism."

"Yeah, yeah, bastard. I'll be on my best behavior," his eyes suddenly widened, "Al's going to flip when he finds out he can't come, I better go get him a ticket to Risembool. You sure I can't rope Armstrong into taking my place?" the look he gave was too bratty to be earnest, but just barely.

"They were very specific, I'm not happy about it either." He said.

That made the little asshole grin, "Yeah I can tell, it's the only part making this worth it."

"Oh and make sure you wear a uniform," This time Mustang was grinning.

"I never wear uniform, why do I have to now?" he asked, petulant.

Because I don't know what we're walking into, because your red coat could make you a target, because the fuhrer himself will be observing, because I will not be the highest rank on this mission and I don't know if the general in charge will be as lenient with dress code, "Because I said so Fullmetal. If they don't have one in your size i'm sure we could…"

"Who are you calling tiny!"

It was bound to be an interesting mission.

True to his word he was at the train station by 7. To be honest, when Mustang saw him he understood why Fullmetal didn't wear a uniform.

He looked… Silly. Even though the thing had obviously been tailored, it still didn't fit quite right, most notably the collar of the overcoat seemed large on his small frame, reaching almost to his chin. Even where it had been tailored properly it looked odd, like he was wearing a costume. It made him look like a kid playing dress-up.

It also accentuated a differentness about Fullmetals features that he hadn't ever really noticed before. Of course he had noted the strange eye color when they had first met, but when Fullmetal was placed in something as mundane as military blues, other things seemed to pop out as well. Like the fact that his hair was a little too light and a little to brassy to be traditionally blond, for a minute Mustang considered that he might dye it, but that was absurd, this was Fullmetal, the kid who wore the same jacket everyday until it smelled so bad he had to have Breda rip it off so they could wash it, he wasn't the type. There was also the coloring of his skin, about two shades darker than any Amestrian he had ever met, probably a consequence of spending so much time traveling outdoors.

Separately, the features didn't amount to much, but together, they made him look vaguely… Foreign. He had never seen a picture of Ed's mother but by all accounts she was Amestrian, with brown hair and eyes and for a moment Mustang wondered what his father had looked like. He wondered why something as obvious as his subordinates strange appearance had alluded him for so long, it probably had to do with the fact that he wasn't a full blooded Amestrian himself. Fullmetal caught his eye and glared as if he could read minds, then he started walking over.

"If you say a word about my uniform," he started, voice low, "I'm not responsible for my actions or your medical bills, fuhrer or no fuhrer." He subtly nodded his head toward something over Mustangs left shoulder. Mustang bit back his own retort to follow his gaze.

His whole body tensed at what he saw, the fuhrer himself stood among a group of grim-faced officers on the platform, his back to them.

"I'm not sure what's going on in Payeid, but I don't think it's anything good," Fullmetal mumbled, he sounded almost nervous.

Mustang was nervous too.


End file.
